


She Petrified Me With Science!

by BuriedIcon



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Statue Transformation, TF, Transformation, frozen, petrification, petrified, petrify, statue tf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuriedIcon/pseuds/BuriedIcon
Summary: Jemma Simmons investigates a strange underground building, where the only occupants are statues. Little did she realize she would be joining them today.





	She Petrified Me With Science!

**Author's Note:**

> This was an experiment for me, an attempt to write a petrification story. I've really be trying to write lots of different things lately, and so I wanted to write for a new character and write a new idea. Feel free to leave feedback if you like!

Jemma Simmons couldn't believe her coworkers right now. Sure, she was a genius, and sure, she was perhaps the best person for such a job, but the fact that some of them were talking like there was some kind of curse was foolish. Everyone knew that curses were fiction; things like magic were just scientific anomalies that hadn't been taken apart and discovered yet. 

So it would be with this. It was said that anyone who entered the underground chamber would be turned to stone, and drone observation did in fact reveal that there were what appeared to be statues of people inside. But those same preliminary scans hadn't revealed any toxic agents, nor had it revealed anything in the air or on the ground that might harm anyone. Everything that had been done spoke to it being entirely safe to enter the underground room. 

Perhaps though, it was unwise to call it a room. Jemma had sparred verbally with Coulson earlier in the day about it, because in truth it was a series of rooms that were connected together. But the fact that they lacked doors and were mostly connected meant that it was easier to call it one chamber, like the large, open temples of the egyptians. 

Not that this was Egyptian. Though it appeared to have plenty of wall drawings, this place seemed far more modern than that. Sure, Jemma wasn't a historian, but even she could tell that the place was probably made by mostly modern people. Not that it was important to her; she was being sent in to determine if the place had anything biological or chemical in it. Given how many would-be world conquerers liked using underground lairs, it was important that someone qualified and capable handled this. At least, that was what Jemma told herself as she descended down the rope to the entrance that had been uncovered. 

It wasn't until she got to the bottom that she allowed herself to remember how much she hated rope climbing. Up or down, it was always a pain, and she swore to herself that she'd never begrudge an elevator for being slow ever again. Uncliping her jeans from the harness, Jemma made a marginal effort to smooth her clothing out, lamenting that she hadn't inquired further about the work she'd be doing before she flew out here. Button downs and jeans may have made her look somewhat like an explorer, but Jemma certainly didn't desire to get dirty today. 

Hopefully she'd be able to get out of here quickly. Everything so far said that she'd be able to, which was probably for the best because she certainly preferred working in a lab to wandering around underground rooms. Flashlight in hand, Jemma was now free to look about the chambers, trying to figure out what exactly she should take samples of. The floor? The walls? The statues? 

Speaking of the statues, Jemma could only remark that they were amazingly lifelike, if a bit creepy. Depicting people in strange positions, like they had been trying to avoid being frozen, they seemed almost perfectly human. There was such detail on the faces and hair, such amazing work done on the clothing, that one would have been forgiven for thinking that they were some great sculptor's idea of a masterpiece. And they were in every room! A dozen, maybe two dozen statues, all of people in these strange poses. 

Jemma mumbled something under her breath, entirely ready to stop seeing new, weird figures every time she entered a new chamber. Lighting the ones she had been in was easy enough; dropping lamps behind her to illuminate the rooms made that rather easy. But walking into new rooms and shining a flashlight on new, frozen, horrified looking statues was just plain creepy. 

Luckily, Jemma could tell that she was probably getting closer to the end. The walls were becoming less detailed, the floors more rough, compared to the smooth floors of the earlier rooms and the walls that had been marked with pictures. But the people remained horrified. Jemma wasn't certain that she was going to be able to get used to that. 

Finally, Jemma made it to the final room, with a statue in the middle of digging out the chamber itself. Creepy, but closer inspection didn't reveal anything strange about it. Nothing weird about the statue, the wall, or anything else. There seemed to be some air flow from where the pick had struck the wall, but Jemma herself couldn't move it, as it was stuck in the stone hands of the worker. Clearly, this was a dead end. But she was reasonably certain that she'd put this one to bed. No curse, just some weird statues and a bunch of chambers designed to look old without actually being old. 

As she made her way out of the unfinished chamber, the floor seemed to give way slightly under her foot. Immediately, Jemma rolled to the side, expecting some sort of trap, but all that happened was a distant, loud boom, echoing through the chambers. It was forceful enough to shake the dust off some of the statues nearby, and certainly enough to get dust on her, but otherwise, it didn't seem to have done anything. 

For once, Jemma hoped that it was a fluke, that this wouldn't result in unneeded complications that would then result in her being delayed and thus kept from more interesting and important work. Then, Jemma realized how foolish that hope had been, when she returned to the entrance and found that it simply wasn't there anymore. Indeed, the entrance seemed to have completely closed up, like a wall had come down where the entrance had been. She was trapped. 

Not that it worried her too much. Jemma had been in worse situations, and a quick evaluation of her predicament revealed that she could probably stick it out until someone outside realized what had happened. She had air, which was the big problem, given what she felt coming from behind the pick in the final room. And the sound no doubt alerted her fellow agents of what had happened. It wouldn't take them too long to find a way to get through. All Jemma had to do was wait, of that she was certain. 

First things first though, she needed to set up a bit more light in the front chamber. Since she'd need to stay there when they were trying to get through in order to hear them, it made sense to move the lights more to that room. No use in sitting in the dark. 

A sudden stiffness in her index finger while trying to place one of the lanterns surprised her, however. Jemma lifted her hand, eyes widening as she saw the grey, stone -like texture that had consumed her finger. She delicately touched it with her other hand, fearful her finger might just fall off, but much to her relief, it remained where it was. Her finger was smooth, cold, and entirely consistent with the same stone texture that all the human statues had. 

That, of course, brought back a certain terror that Jemma forced herself to shove down. She certainly didn't want to end up like those statues, and she now had to contemplate the reality that those were people, and that she might be joining them, something she really, really didn't want to do. 

However, while she was gazing around and thinking about that, she failed to notice that her middle and ring fingers had stiffened up and hardened as well. It was strange really, to feel her fingers suddenly cease to be there like this, and she found herself curious about the experience. Jemma had always been an inquisitive one, even in situations of extreme danger, and she might as well try to figure out as much as she could while she had the time. 

Her focus was entirely on her hand as her pinky finger joined its brethren, as the grey stone texture began spreading across the rest of her hand. Jemma did her best to use her muscles, to try and resist it, but all it did was get her thumb in a weird position as it too stiffened and froze, leaving her with a completely petrified hand down to the wrist. Jemma noted that it was heavier; her hand had all the weight that a stone hand would logically have. That was probably going to be an issue if this spread. 

Still, Jemma's attention was split, as she felt the process spread across her other hand. Now that she knew what to expect, Jemma did what she could to ensure that her hand at least froze in a way that she might be able to use it if she needed to. Sure, she wouldn't be able to grab anything with it, but she could at least keep her hand from being frozen in any weird position. 

Not that Jemma was that happy to have two stone hands. They were decidedly heavier than she wanted them to be, and that meant it was tiring just to hold them upright. Maybe this was why all the statues were in weird positions; they were slowly being weighed down by the increased heaviness of their bodies. 

Not that Jemma was going to take this lying down. She suspected that moving about was probably the best way to keep the petrification at bay, not that she was certain it was helping at all. Indeed, the sudden heaviness of her feet directed her attention to them, revealing something rather curious. Her shoes were turning to stone as well. 

The stone texture was creeping over her shoes, clearly petrifying everything inside them as well. She couldn't feel her toes on either foot, and soon enough she couldn't feel her feet at all. Jemma watched with a mix of horror and curiosity as it crept over the arch of her feet and over her heels, stopping just over her ankles. Lifting her feet was difficult, but she could do it, confirming that even though only her feet were made of stone, they were still attached to her legs. A curious development, that. 

Not that Jemma really felt like going anywhere at the moment. Between her feet and her hands, it was like having weights attached to her body, and it took all she had not to sit down. After all, the last thing she wanted was to be turned to stone in a sitting position, slumped over and looking disheveled. Jemma noted that whatever was happening was acting a lot like a kind of hypothermia; it seemed to target the extremities first and as far as she knew, would spread from there. 

She didn't have to wait long to see her hypothosis confirmed. Whatever was happening was spreading up her forearms, covering her sleeves as well as her arms themselves. Perhaps it was a small thing, but Jemma really didn't relish the notion that she'd end up frozen in these clothes in particular. Not that she had thought much about what she'd be wearing if she was ever turned to stone, but she figured that one always hoped to look their best if they were going to be the equivalent of an art project for eternity. 

Jemma did what she could to move her arms, despite their increasing weight pulling her down. By the time everything from her elbows down was petrified, Jemma couldn't lift her arms anymore. Indeed, she found herself struggling to keep herself upright. As her biceps and triceps turned to stone, it was everything she could do to keep her knees from bending under the heavy weight of her arms. But bend her knees she did, as her body struggled to hold her upright. 

Which suddenly made Jemma aware that she now couldn't unbend her knees at all. Letting out a frustrated whine, Jemma looked down to see her legs being consumed by whatever was happening to her, freezing her legs in a weird bent position forever. At least she didn't have to struggle to stay upright now; apparently the fact that her legs were petrified meant that she had a base to rest on. 

Not that it pleased her to see her thighs being turned to stone. Nor did it please Jemma to feel it spread across her intimate parts and over her ass. She felt something almost like arousal as it spread across her groin, like some last effort to feel something before becoming like the rest of her frozen form. It wasn't lost on Jemma that she was now petrified from the waist down, nor that she was probably going to be trapped in these pants forever. If only she'd though about looking better today, as illogical as it was to try to look good on an excavation. 

Not that Jemma had time to think about that for very long. Her arms were completely transformed from the shoulder down, leaving her being pulled down again. Jemma however, forced herself as best she could from becoming hunched over, despite the weight that was pulling her down. She refused, outright refused to look like she was taking a dump on the ground when she was turned to stone. Looking like you were doing squats wasn't much better, but she refused to be stuck hunched over forever. 

Jemma felt so strongly about this, it was almost a relief for her when she felt her abs and lower back succumb to the stone, thus making it impossible for her to bend over anymore even if she wanted to. Logically, this was terrifying, but at least she wouldn't be stuck in a position that was embarrassing to be seen in. 

Relief quickly faded, as Jemma found the rest of her chest quickly joining the rest of her body. Again, she found herself more curious than afraid, given that she shouldn't be able to breathe if her chest was made of stone. And yet, despite her torso turning to stone, Jemma found that she wasn't having problems breathing. Assuming she still needed to. Admittedly, she was somewhat distracted by the bolt of arousal that shot through her as her breasts became stone. Not that she could move to do anything about it of course. 

It occurred to Jemma that her time was probably growing short; it took all of her willpower not to look down and inspect herself as best she could to figure out anything more about herself. But doing that would mean her head would end up stuck looking down, and she didn't know what would happen when the petrification continued up her neck. 

Unfortunately, she was now discovering it, as she felt her throat turn to stone, and hair upon her neck do the same. She secretly hoped her hair wasn't too much of mess; she wasn't sure she'd be able to bear the teasing words of her friends when they found her if her hair was a mess. 

Not that she had much time to think on that, as she felt her lower lip turn to stone. It felt cold, like the rest of her did, and it was soon followed by her upper lip, meaning she could no longer open her mouth, even if she wanted to. She felt it creep up her face, over her nose, while behind her it crept up the back of her head, freezing her hair in whatever position it was left in. 

Finally, Jemma felt it move upwards towards her eyes, as she prepared herself for the darkness she expected to come. Though she kept her eyes open, she fully expected darkness to take her, to deprive her of all her senses. Yet the darkness didn't come. Her eyes froze like the rest of her, but she could still see. She couldn't move her sight, but she could still see. She couldn't hear or smell or feel, but she could see. Why could she see? It didn't make sense. 

Yet she knew she was probably entirely stone now. She could feel the top of her head, the last part of her that had remained flesh, succumb to the same transformation as the rest of her, leaving Jemma in a crouched position with heavy looking arms. Absurd, that this was what got her. Not aliens or supposed gods or inhumans... but some kind of petrifying contagion or dust. 

But Jemma could see. She wondered, internally, if the others could see her as well. If they had seen her wandering around, knowing what was going to happen to her, but being entirely unable to do anything about it. Jemma wondered if they would have said something, if they could. She wondered if she'd ever be free. She wondered that so long that she began to forget what she was even wondering, because time itself seemed to pass strangely when one couldn't judge how much time had passed. 

Of course, when he friends finally did show up, in hazmat suits, she couldn't say anything to them. She couldn't hear their voices, and she couldn't tell what they might be saying. She couldn't even really feel it when they picked her up and moved her out of there like some kind of art piece. That's what she was now, wasn't she? An art piece. An awkward art piece. 

They even set her up in the lab. That was kind of a nice thing to do, but as she watched them soundlessly, she wished she could tell them all that they were doing wrong. Oh, how she longed to actually do things again! But Jemma could only stare straight ahead, forever, or at least until one of them figured out how to fix her. Assuming they thought they could. 

But for now, Jemma was just a decoration, a silent observer to the place she used to run.


End file.
